


Wherein Olivia and Phillip are Caught Up in a Bank Hostage Crisis

by Rysler



Category: Guiding Light
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:44:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rysler/pseuds/Rysler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...right before Halloween.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherein Olivia and Phillip are Caught Up in a Bank Hostage Crisis

I.

Olivia woke to the pinpoint heat of a hand on her back. Her cheek pressed against the pillow. Her neck, she could already tell, even before the dreams really faded, was stiff. If she moved, it would creak like an accordion. But she wasn't ready to move yet. The sky was dark outside. The automatic coffee pot had not activated. Morning had not broken.

But the hand was moving. Restlessly crawling up to her shoulder blades and down her spine.

"You're awake," Olivia said. Then she reached up and rubbed her mouth. Cottony. She ran her tongue along her teeth.

The hand on her back stilled.

"I'm not ready to be awake...Why is it so early?" Natalia asked.

"It's early enough to go back to sleep."

As an example to be emulated, Olivia closed her eyes. But it was too late. Her thoughts were all daytime thoughts. Breakfast. Business. Checklists and tasks and getting dressed and shaking hands.

She rolled onto her side and Natalia's hand moved congenially to her waist. How often they touched like this now. How used to it Olivia should be. But that little tremor remained in her chest, just below the scar, whenever Natalia touched her. Like seeing a spider, no matter how many spiders she had killed in her life. She interlaced her fingers with Natalia's, on her hip, and then pulled Natalia's hand to her chest.

Natalia squirmed closer, pressing against Olivia's back. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You might," Olivia said. "I might. Who knows what the day will bring."

"Oh, I know what the morning will bring," Natalia said.

The words licked along her spine like lightning. Natalia's hand had been a tactile link between them, but this, the words in the air, was more. A promise of merging. No between at all.

"So," Olivia said, "You're clairvoyant."

"I just made a wish," Natalia said.

Olivia kissed Natalia's knuckles, and then her palm. Natalia's fingers freed themselves to move along Olivia's chin, to stroke her nose, while Natalia whispered against her ear.

"What's your wish?" Olivia asked.

"I can't tell you. Then it won't come true."

"All of your dreams will come true, Natalia."

Natalia kissed her ear, and then the back of her neck. "Let's just start with this morning."

"I keep telling you not to think small."

"If you think it'll be small...Maybe you're doing it wrong?"

"That seems highly unlikely."

Natalia kissed Olivia's shoulder. Then her lips moved across Olivia's arm, leaving her tingling, leaving her trapped. Natalia's hand slipped from her grasp only to travel over her breasts. Olivia squirmed until she could roll over onto her back. Natalia stretched over her.

"Don't wake up Ava," Olivia said, between kisses.

"She's sleeping off jet lag."

"She's got the hearing of a bat. Runs in the DNA."

Natalia kissed the corner of Olivia's cheek. "Then you'd better be quiet."

"Oh, I can be quiet."

"Nuh uh," Natalia said.

"Uh huh."

Natalia slid down, kissing her neck.

"Okay. Okay. If you want me to not wake up Ava," Olivia said, biting back a groan as Natalia's lips touched her breast, "I think you're going to have to smother me."

* * *

The pumpkins along the counter and in the corners of the bank lobby were real, carved by enterprising bank tellers or their children, smelling slightly fleshy and raw, their holes dark. Candles in a bank in daylight, probably not a good idea. Olivia stood among them, third in line. She wondered if she could match pumpkin to teller. Maybe that would be profiling, and therefore wrong, to assume that the chubbier pumpkin with the triangles for eyes and the toothy grin belonged to the woman who had a picture of three children on her desk. That the overly intricate death mask with script "Happy Halloween" belonged to the young, single security guard, who didn't have anything else to do with his time off.

Too many kids these days didn't go out and drink every night.

Olivia blamed the internet.

The sound of the gun going off, seemingly right against her ears, sent all of her thoughts scattering. She went to the floor automatically. She'd heard the sound often enough, had even squeezed off rounds herself. But the sound was so loud, so deafening, so close that it made the whole world stop, and left a banging echo in her head. By the time the sound left, she was on one knee, one hand on the bank counter, squatting but ready to run.

Surprised she wasn't dead.

The room went completely silent. No screaming or running like in the movies. Just the deafness, echoing through them all. Olivia looked around. Didn't see anything in particular. Just a bank full of tense and frightened customers.

Then the low rumble of talking began. People assessing. People asking each other for advice, rather than face the obvious.

Across the room, silver-haired and gaunt, the walking dead, caught her eye. Phillip.

"Fuck," she said.

His eyes widened. He gestured at her to get down.

"What?" she mouthed.

His movements got more frantic.

"Everyone on the ground!" a voice from a man she couldn't see.

She didn't get down. Her phone was in her purse. One button, pushed without looking, and she had a blank text box to Natalia. But what to say.

"Down now!"

If she was about to get shot, "I love you forever au revoir" was the most appropriate. But if she was not about to get shot, it might be overly dramatic. This might be nothing. But she didn't know quite how to tell Natalia in twelve words or less how to take care of the children, that it was all right, that the power-of-attorney had already been taken care of, that Olivia had no vicious, homophobic relatives to contest any wills--not in Springfield.

That everything that she had was Natalia's and death was not an ending.

From the bank floor, Phillip gestured at at Olivia plaintively.

Olivia's world became entirely clear. All that mattered was that Natalia was not in the bank. Knowing that, Olivia could accept the rest.

She texted "911" to Natalia and then the man with the gun appeared in front of her.

She knelt, looking up at him.

"On the ground," he said. His voice was loud, frustrated. High-pitched, even.

So she got on the floor.

He took her phone from her purse. Her beautiful Blackberry. She missed it already.

He asked, "You called 911?"

She stayed silent. She was head-level with Phillip now, and he had a disappointed look on his face. If only she'd followed direction. If only she hadn't been her.

The man with the gun kicked her in the side with his heavy work boot.

There was no pain at first, though Phillip winced and shouted something. There was only splitting open, and the loss of air, and the outrage at this man who would do this to her. Then the pain, radiating out from her side, under her ribs--that was a blessing, somewhat--her kidneys and intestines and liver were there too, close to her spine. She rolled half onto her back and got a good view of her new least favorite bastard.

Their eyes met. His face, like his voice, was hard and angry. A middle-aged, nondescript white man with dark but graying hair and a gun that seemed bigger than his head. Bigger than the whole bank. A .32 special.

She didn't recognize him. And then she did. He was an out-of-towner, staying at the Beacon, working on IT contracts with some bank. With this bank. Something must have gone wrong. He must have gotten angry.

"What do you want?" she asked.

He kicked her in the face. The edge of the boot cut her cheek, just against the bone, and Olivia felt the blood trickling before she felt the lance of pain. Felt another blow against her side.

Natalia was going to kill her for getting hurt.

Regret kept her silent as the man walked away. No one had moved, but Phillip felt closer. She just couldn't look at him.

He was crying.

* * *

Natalia was in the middle of marking up a sentence when the phone started vibrating on her desk. She glanced at the caller name in the little window. Olivia. She picked it up and answered it, abandoning the sentence.

"Hello?"

Nothing on the other end. Not even static. She pulled the phone away and saw the text. Olivia never texted her. Olivia called, because the sound of Natalia's voice apparently had an affect on Olivia, and made Olivia into one of those annoying, clingy lovers that called at least twice a day, every day.

Which Natalia liked.

But now she was reading the text, and furrowing her brow. "911, what?"

She hit reply and sent "wtf" as Rafe had taught her and waited for a reply. She mumbled, mostly to herself, since Blake was in the other room, "What the heck? Why would Olivia send a text like that? Did she misdial?"

Did she misdial--

Panic sent her to her feet.

Blake was still living in an ordinary universe and unaware something terrible was happening as Natalia rushed by her.

"I've got to go," Natalia said.

"What?"

Then Natalia was gone, out the door and down the stairs and into her car.

Blake shook her head. "What the heck?"

She tried not to worry about a woman's sudden movements. She tried to get back to work.

* * *

Emma.

Natalia was halfway between Blake's and the school, driving with purpose but not overly speeding, hearing without listening to the Christian rock station that came on when she started the car because it was silly and sweet and often moving, though not today, and not ever quite like the music they'd had in Chicago.

The music stopped.

The announcer broke in. She recognized the voice of the young man with the angelic, shy, stuttering words that handled the afternoon requests with an almost-but-not-quite a radio personality, like the daytime anchors of the twelve o'clock news who dreamed of the more lucrative eleven o'clock hour but never quite left the daylight.

He said, "This is, uh, a press release from Mayor Wolfe's office. Mayor, uh, Doris Wolfe. Not that there's anything wrong with--Uh, she says, 'Springfield citizens, please be advised to avoid the financial district. Springfield Bank and Trust has been cordoned off. We're getting unconfirmed reports of a hostage situation. Please." His voice was shaking. This was too much responsibility for a kid. "Don't go downtown."

"Oh my God," Natalia breathed.

Businesses that ran on credit cards weren't supposed to have deposit days or envelopes anymore. The paperless society. Electronic accounting was the way it worked and Olivia employed a bookkeeper. She didn't need to go to the bank.

Natalia's chest burned with the unfairness of it--how Olivia had mentioned at breakfast that she had to swing by the bank, how it was the day before Halloween and they were going to do it big, they were going to do it in style, because Natalia was Catholic and a single mother and so it meant something, more than to a girl from San Cristobel who had never heard of such a festival, because there were no harvests there, and no harvest moons or cold Octobers or grey Novembers, who dressed her daughter up as princesses or ballerinas because her daughter asked and the school sent home party notices, but never liked taking her trick-or-treating because it was too dangerous. She thought pumpkins and ghosts in a hotel lobby were tacky and caused clutter. This year, Natalia had talked her into an inflatable one for the lawn.

Natalia did a U-turn, right there in the middle of the street, with cars honking at her.

She prayed, and she sped.

* * *

Natalia's phone rang.

"Mom," came Rafe's frantic plea as she hit the speaker button, dropped the phone into the passenger seat, and put her hand back on the wheel.

"I'm fine, Rafe."

"Thank God. Don't go near downtown."

"Rafe--"

"I mean it. Come back to the farmhouse. We'll watch on TV."

The farmhouse. The refuge. She shook her head, glad Rafe was back, that he was nearby. Ashamed to defy her son, when his voice was filled with so much worry.

"I can't, Rafe, I'm busy."

"Don't!"

The military had drummed him out when they found out one of his eyes was bad, when he broke his wrist on a training exercise, when their newfound compassion for diabetics became too costly with this particular specimen. But he'd earned his clear record. He was reformed. He worked security all night, every night, at one of the Spaulding's ridiculous warehouses, and went to trade school. In a year and a half, he could be a police officer. Just like his daddy.

But not today. Not today would her baby be one of those men surrounding the bank and risking their lives.

"Rafe, go there. I'll be there soon, okay?"

It broke her heart to have to lie to him.

"What about Emma?" he asked.

"She's at school until three."

"Okay," he said.

Then she knew that he was lying, too. That she'd taught him how to lie by surrendering. To flow like water, like fog, underneath people's expectations, to become invisible. To pretend to be what people expect because it was such an easy way to get through life.

"Rafe," she said.

"I know, I know. I love you, too, Ma."

* * *

Olivia sat against the wall, perpendicular to the glass entrance and the counters. Facing the ropes that made lines that were empty. Were they lines, if not filled, she wondered. People could just bypass them and go up to the counter. There was no reason for the ropes to exist.

Phillip sat next to her, an appropriately friendly six inches of wall between their shoulders. He'd tried to tend to her wounds, to touch her cheek, and she'd slapped him away.

"What now?" Phillip asked.

"He'll get his money and go."

"Do you know him?"

"He's staying at the Beacon. Three days so far. He's so nondescript. Leslie Calvino, I think."

"Is that a girl's name?"

"Maybe it's a pseudonym. Hey, Leslie!"

The man turned away from the counter, where he'd been shouting at the remaining teller, the one that he'd chosen to help him, as the youngest and most terrified and least threatening.

Phillip flinched.

"Yup, that must be his real name," Olivia said.

"You know who I am?" Leslie demanded.

"You're staying at my hotel, you moron."

"Olivia!" Phillip hissed. "Must you always speak before you think? Were you not paying attention, oh, five minutes ago?"

"He's going to kill you," Samuel said.

Samuel, who ran the deli two blocks from the Beacon, so she'd had him cater once. And never again.

Samuel didn't know shit.

"Oh, come on," Olivia said.

"You, up!" Leslie pointed his gun at her.

Olivia got up.

Phillip grabbed her hand, tried to tug her down. When she resisted, he simply held onto her fingers.

"You're first," Leslie said.

She forced a laugh. "Whatever."

Phillip's grip was bruising her fingers.

She'd damn well better be first. Everyone's life in the bank was worth more than hers. She knew that. Everyone else would appreciate that, in time. Even Phillip, the damn mentally deranged father of her child. Mutated Spaulding DNA.

He would do his best.

She wrenched free of him and walked to the center of the room. All eyes were on her. She smiled.

"You run the Beacon," Leslie said.

"Yes."

"You're worth something."

Maybe in monetary figures. Maybe in the sense that she employed people, in the sense that in a decaying industrial town in the dying Midwest in a bad economy, she was putting food on the table.

"I see you can read a room, Mr. Calvino," she said.

Phillip banged his head against the wall.

"The Spauldings tried to cheat me," he said.

"Yeah, well, welcome to Springfield."

"I'm going to get the money I'm owed, and then the Spauldings and you and everyone else can rot in hell."

"How much are you owed, Mr. Calvino?"

"I want 2.26 million dollars," he said.

So she couldn't just write him a check.

He looked past her, out the window, and fear grew on his face. She turned around. Through the vertical slats, SWAT was lining up. Black vans. Police lights. People, beyond them, standing on the little porch of Company.

Olivia tried to calculate how much time had passed. 20 seconds for the sound of the gun, for getting on the floor. Another three minutes to line them up against the wall. And then the argument with the teller, that felt like it was unfolding very rapidly, spiraling into chaos. Then the waiting.

Fifteen minutes ago she'd been mentally complaining about how long the line was. Just another stupid, ordinary day.

"Who's out there?" Leslie asked.

Olivia squinted into the sunlight to make out the faces on the porch.

Doris, in the center, with a bullhorn in her hand. Looking intently at the bank windows. Looking tough. Tough on crime, that was Doris' motto. Family fucking values.

How she'd managed to get re-elected, Olivia couldn't fathom. The dyke. Olivia had voted for her, sure, but the Coopers hated her for corruption, abuse of power, and getting Frank sent to the hospital. Not to mention the scandal.

Really, Doris was Olivia's kind of woman.

Olivia imagined that they could see each other.

"The mayor's out there," Olivia said.

"Fuck."

And there, stumbling up the steps to Doris' right, to Olivia's left as she was seeing it, was Natalia. Before Olivia's breath could catch, Ava also appeared, screaming already, waving her arms at Doris.

Doris shouted back.

Natalia shoved her away between them.

"We're doomed," Olivia said. "You might as well eat your gun now."

Leslie cursed.

Olivia glanced at Phillip.

He raised his eyebrows at her. His eyes held a twinkle.

The crazy bastard had an idea.

* * *

 

II.

The lobby phone rang.

The teller looked from Leslie to the phone, and back again. Willing him with her brain to make a decision before she screamed.

Olivia stared at the figures on the porch. Those on the outside, in the sunlight. Just beyond the threshold. Her whole life standing there just out of reach.

She imagined Natalia could see her. Her lover was meeting her eyes and willing her to fall into those dark pools. Out there, she wouldn't have to worry about anything.

And then Natalia was squinting and Olivia realized that Natalia could see her, and was annoyed Olivia was two steps behind.

Olivia reached toward toward her. A tiny movement. Completely instinctual. No one noticed but Natalia, who held up her hand.

Olivia stopped.

Natalia folded her fingers, leaving her pinkie and her pointer finger up. She stuck her thumb out.

Olivia smiled. She raised her hand.

Leslie grabbed it and yanked her to her feet. "Who are you signaling?"

"No one. Let go of me." Olivia pulled away.

Phillip rolled onto his knees.

"Someone answer the goddamn phone."

Olivia and Leslie looked toward the voice. The security guard, de-gunned and de-walkie-talkied, had shouted but sat cross-legged, his back straight against the wall. He was young and chewing gum and his name plate said "Alvino."

Olivia felt a surge of relief and despair so poignant that she stopped fighting Leslie's grip.

That boy could be her son.

But wasn't.

Just someone else's, then.

Her eyes stung. She looked back at Natalia, who had the expression of someone frightened and trying not to be.

"Don't move," Leslie said. He scowled at Olivia and then went to the counter where the phone rang.

Olivia muttered, "Have you always been this impotent or is this a recent thing?"

"Hello?" Leslie said. Then he turned around slowly and looked at Olivia. "She wants to speak to you."

"She?" Olivia glanced out the window.

Natalia still stood there, frozen. Next to her, Doris waved a cell phone.

"Oh." Olivia went to the phone. "What do you want, Doris?"

"What do I want?"

Leslie broke in, "Who the hell is that?"

Olivia covered the mouthpiece. "It's the mayor."

"The mayor?"

"Yes. You've pissed off the mayor. Happy now?"

Doris asked, "Olivia?"

Olivia uncovered the mouthpiece. "Sorry. This douchebag wants two million dollars."

"What's his name?" Doris asked.

"Leslie Calvino."

"You told them my name?" Leslie asked. He reached for the phone.

Olivia waved him away. "You know, Phil's in here. So I'm fine. What can you do for me, Doris?"

"Duck and I'll shoot the bastard," Doris said.

"Personally?"

"Olivia."

Olivia turned to Leslie. "If you let all the hostages go--You can keep me--she'll give you $100,000 in cash in an hour."

"What?" Doris asked.

"That won't save my business," Leslie said.

"Not done. By tomorrow morning, the city will wire you 2.2 million. Wherever you want."

"What makes you think--"

"Not done. Jesus, Leslie. Listen to me. Then Mayor Wolfypies here will sue Spaulding for reimbursement. Everyone's happy."

"I'll be a wanted man."

"This is a small place, Leslie. You're not from here. People forget things."

Phillip had risen into a crouch.

The teller looked at Alvino, who looked at Leslie's gun.

Leslie asked, "Why you? Why would you be important enough to the mayor? Wolfypies?"

"She's, uh." Olivia hesitated, then said, "She's my lover."

"What?" Leslie raised the gun.

"It's true," Alvino said. "The mayor totally came out ages ago. It was in the paper."

"The fuck?" Doris said through the phone.

"She will do anything to save me," Olivia said. "Name your price."

Leslie stepped closer to her. "You told them my name."

"Yeah, so? They asked."

Phillip got to his feet.

Leslie turned and shot the wall above him.

Women screamed and Samuel pulled Phillip back down to the floor. "Get down."

Leslie took Olivia's arm.

Another scream, this one more distant, through the glass. Across the parking lot.

Olivia struggled, but Leslie was too close, and his breath filled her face. Peppermint and menthol. Olivia contorted, leaning away.

"You tried to free these people," Leslie said.

"Funny that. Of course I did, dumbass."

"You tried to trick me!"

Leslie struck her across the face with the gun, which hurt so much more than the boot, the unyielding metal slicing her temple, jolting her jaw and her nose. She screamed and he pushed her down, sending her sliding across the floor. The pain made everything black for a moment, but she could still hear. She could still feel.

"God," she groaned.

Hands tugged her into a lap. Touched her face.

Leslie shouted into the phone, "I need 2.26 million." Then, "I don't care about passage out of here. But I want Alan Spaulding here. If he's here in 20 minutes, I'll give you ten hostages. If not, ten die."

"Don't worry," Phillip whispered to Olivia, and she could almost see his face through the haze of red as she blinked away blood and tears.

"Is my nose broken?" she asked.

"No," Phillip said.

"It's bleeding?"

"Yes."

Olivia closed her eyes again. It seemed to hurt less when she did that.

"Natalia is going to swoop in here and save you," Phillip said.

"Oh, yeah? Is that your master plan?"

Lips touched her forehead.

The pain eased.

"It's part of it," he said.

She pursed her lips.

"You had your try, Olivia. You're going to have to do it my way now."

"Damnit," she said.

"It was a nice try, though. I wish I had seen Doris' face when you said you were lovers."

"I did. She nearly crushed the phone in her hand."

"And Natalia?"

"I don't want to talk about Natalia."

"Okay. Rest, then. It looks like Leslie's getting us pizza."

"Pizza?" Samuel asked. "When we could have a nice sandwich?"

"You wouldn't know a nice sandwich if it bit you on the ass," Olivia said.

"We'll get out of here," Phillip said. "We'll get you back to your children. Olivia, Olivia. Did you ever think you'd have so many children?"

"No. No, I never wanted any children. I just wanted--I don't know. Security. Independence. Just my M.B.A. And then--then I had Emma, and I just wanted one. One perfect, beautiful little girl."

But Ava was out there, standing with Natalia. Figuring out a way to save everyone in the most obnoxiously unnecessary, risky way possible. And Rafe--he was so close. Too close. He should be with Natalia, at the farmhouse, far away.

Ava was there in his place. Everything got mixed up.

"This will all be over by the time she gets out of school," Phillip said.

"Tell me about your plan," Olivia said.

Leslie threw the phone back on the receiver. "Fuck you," he shouted at it. Then he turned to Olivia and said, "That is the biggest bitch I have ever talked to."

"Look in a mirror lately?" Olivia mumbled.

And then, with Phillip caressing her face, Olivia kind of passed out.

* * *

"Do something," Natalia pleaded when Doris hung up the phone.

"I'm sending in food and having the cops round up Alan Spaulding and collecting hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash. What else do you want me to do, Natalia? In fact, why don't you chip in? Got a checkbook on you? Need the ATM? Or the bank?"

"Doris, please. Olivia is in there."

"I know that. And you're here. You should be behind police tape, Natalia. You're just a civilian--"

Ava stepped in between them. "Natalia's not going anywhere. And neither am I."

"So. How nice. How long are you in town, Ava? Just visiting?"

"It's Halloween."

"It's Halloween. Lovely. Would you two please let me do my job?" Doris asked.

Ava narrowed her eyes, but let Natalia take her hand.

"Go ahead," Natalia said.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot."

Natalia's phone rang.

Doris glared at her, but kept giving instructions into her walkie talkie.

"Rafe?" Natalia asked when she opened the phone.

"Ma, I can see you on TV."

The other two women could hear his every word. The anger in his voice flooded the porch.

"Rafe--" Natalia started.

"You've got to get out of there."

"I'm not in any danger, Rafe."

Doris said, "But he's right. You should really be at home. We'll call--"

Natalia pointed the phone at Doris. "You. Stop." She put the phone back against her ear. "Rafe--"

"I can't believe you'd be there."

"Where else should I be? Rafe, what if it was you in there? Where do you think Olivia would be?"

"Celebrating."

"Rafe."

"Let me talk to Ava," he said.

Natalia passed the phone to Ava, who raised her eyebrows, but took it.

"So," Doris said. "How's domestic bliss?"

"It's fine, thank you. You know, it's a marriage. It takes work and dedication."

"Well, I'm sure Olivia knows that, seeing as she's been married five times."

Natalia bit her lip and looked at the bank window. She couldn't see Olivia anymore. It was tearing her apart. Couldn't they see that? It was twisting her and making her nauseous, making her hands clammy.

She said, "Maybe it's not something you've experienced, Doris."

"Or you, Natalia. Call it what you want, but I didn't get any invitations. I should know, I presided at your last wedding. And this isn't Llanview. You can't just be gay-married."

"I can be whatever I want," Natalia said sharply.

Doris sighed and leaned against the porch railing. There was nothing to do but wait for the pizza. Thirty minutes or maybe even less, but it still managed to feel interminable.

Ava snapped the phone shut. "He'll pick Emma up at school and take her to the park. So they'll be nearby but not, like, of this. And they won't be near any televisions."

"That's good, Ava. Thank you," Natalia said. She lowered her head, studying the paint lines.

Ava said, "So, Doris. How's your love life? Now that you've stomped all over my family."

"Really? We're going to do this now?" Doris asked.

"It's a small enough city," Natalia said.

Ava said, "Exactly."

"We're just waiting," Natalia said.

Doris said, "I'm dating the bartender, all right?"

"Wait. The one who worked at Towers?" Natalia asked.

"That's the one. She's still there. I'm still there. I don't wear the hat anymore. F.Y.I."

"Olivia said she was a bitch."

"Yeah, well. Guess what my type is."

Natalia squinted.

"Are you calling me a liar, Natalia?" Doris asked.

"I'm just remembering who I work for. Are you?"

"Look--"

Doris' radio crackled to life. "In position. Can't get a line of sight."

Natalia drew a deep, shuddering breath.

Ava moved to put her arm around Natalia's shoulders.

"Natalia, take it easy," Doris said. "We're not going to shoot Olivia."

Natalia just breathed through her nose.

"No matter how much we might like to," Doris added.

Ava said, "I smell pizza."

"Let me take it in," Natalia said.

"Are you kidding me?"

Ava said, "I can do it."

"Are you kidding me, too? Yeah, I know it's not Manhattan. But we do actually have cops for that. And look, I know that we are three strong women, trying to rescue our fourth--"

"Something like that," Natalia said.

"For bridge," Ava said.

"Come on," Doris said.

Then Doris gestured to the police negotiator in charge. The pizza boy brought five boxes up to the yellow tape and a plainclothes officer took them and walked them to a uniformed officer, who carefully approached the bank door. The women on the porch could only watch.

"I wish Frank were here," Natalia said, leaning sadly on the railing.

Ava rolled her eyes.

"Fuck Frank," Doris said.

"He does like the lesbians, I hear," Ava said.

Natalia allowed herself a tiny smile.

* * *

"I think my face hurts less," Olivia said.

"Is it numb?" Phillip asked.

"Touch it."

Phillip poked her cheek.

"Ow. No. It's just--maybe I'm used to it."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, I've adjusted. So when you want to rush this guy, I'm ready."

"Me too," Alvino said.

Samuel said nothing.

"Nobody's going to rush anyone," Phillip said. "Not at the moment."

"Then what's the plan?"

A cop knocked on the glass door.

Leslie looked up. He'd been sitting on the counter, counting his bullets. A bag of cash--everything from the registers and the hostages' pockets--sat beside him. He pointed at the teller.

"Go get the pizza," he said.

"Guy likes pizza," Olivia said.

The cop opened the door wide enough to hand the boxes to the girl, who set them on the floor. The cop and the girl looked at Leslie.

"You know what?" Leslie said. "You can go."

The cop yanked the girl through the door.

Leslie pointed his gun at four other patrons. "You, you, you, you. One for each pizza. Go."

"See?" Olivia said. "That leaves more pizza for him."

Phillip said, "Olivia's injured. Let her go."

"She's not leaving."

"I'm going to be the last one out of here," Olivia said. "Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear," Samuel said.

"You are not."

"Are too."

"So my daughter will grow up without a mother? I don't think so."

"She'll have a mother."

"Well, she should have two."

"God," Samuel said. "Could you both stop for like, two seconds?"

The four freed hostages were creeping toward the door, afraid to be shot, afraid Leslie would change his mind.

The cop held the door for them.

Leslie shot at the ceiling. "Get the fuck out!"

The hostages ran through the door. The cop ducked out. The door slammed.

Olivia said, "Did he just release five hostages for pizza? I think, um. I think he's bored."

"It's a tense situation," Phillip said. "It's got to be draining. He probably just wants to sleep."

"Are you speaking from experience?"

"I am. You?"

Olivia went silent. She pushed herself up, until she was sitting against the wall, just like them.

Alvino glanced at her.

Olivia said, "I remember what it was like. I always came home."

"You could never hold onto a secret for long. You're too much of an attention whore."

Olivia shook her head and smiled.

"So what's the plan?" Samuel asked.

"Well," Phillip said. "There's one of him and--wait, there's fewer of us now."

"Genius," Olivia said.

Phillip bumped her shoulder.

Alvino asked, "Are you guys, like, married?"

Phillip said, "She broke my heart."

Olivia said, "That would presuppose--"

Phillip said, "You know what? Die in a fire, Olivia. I am sure, sure, that this thing is somehow your fault. The guy, after all, is your guest at the Beacon, and he is currently pissed off mostly at you."

Olivia scowled. "Probably," she said.

"So. The plan is, there's eight of us..."

Olivia scrunched up her face mockingly, but quietly, and listened to his damn plan.

* * *

"How long has it been?" Natalia asked.

"Since the bank alarm triggered? 45 minutes, I think." Ava said.

Natalia hugged herself. "That long."

Doris stood speaking with the pizza cop. Natalia tried not to think that he looked shaken, but they'd all heard the gunshot. They'd all seen the hostages running out into the open.

"The other hostages look all right," Ava said.

"Where's Olivia? If he hit her, if she's injured--"

"Come on, you know her. She pissed him off so he's probably keeping her."

"What if he's--"

"No." Ava shook Natalia's shoulder. "Don't go there. Phillip would never let that happen."

Natalia snorted. "Oh, no, Phillip wouldn't."

"So you're on Olivia's side of that whole thing."

Natalia turned to Ava and cupped her cheek.

Ava held still, but met her eyes.

"Of course I am," Natalia said. "One hundred percent."

"But you were instrumental in visitation."

"Instrumental." Natalia dropped her hand in order to lean against the railing. "I am instrumental in so many things."

* * *

"I did almost die in a fire once," Olivia said.

"Did I hit a nerve?" Phillip asked.

Leslie ate pizza like a starving man. The excitement had presumably drained him of calories, and he was portly to begin with. None of the hostages ate anything, on orders from Phillip, though the pizza boxes lay open in front of them. The smell was torture. Olivia would rather be shot.

"I don't like the plan," Samuel said.

"Why not? Your worthless ass is fine," Phillip said.

"Someone's going to get killed."

"Not your concern."

"He's right," Olivia said. "A stray bullet--"

"There won't be any stray bullets. Look at him. He's no bank robber. He obviously didn't think this through. He's letting us all sit together. He's letting us talk."

Alvino nodded.

"Okay, let's begin scooting."

Leslie took another bite of pizza. His gaze was on the pepperoni.

Everyone scooted toward the door. Three inches. They made rustling, sighing sounds, but Leslie didn't look up.

Phillip made they signal and they scooted again.

"When he's done with the pizza," Samuel said, "His attention won't be on food anymore."

"He'll be in a stupor. Look at him. He's not some linebacker monster. He doesn't know karate."

"But his attention will be wandering. He'll be bored. He has us to entertain him. He'll shoot at our feet and make us dance."

"Sammy the Rat makes a point," Olivia said.

Phillip nodded. "We'll have to act fast. Keep scooting. You'll know when to run."

"What about the cops outside?" Alvino asked. "What if they just open fire?"

"They only care about Leslie, and he'll be in their line of sight. Hopefully they're not idiots. Even if Doris is in charge."

"All right," Olivia said. "Let's get this done." She knelt.

"Wait!" Samuel said. "If we just wait. Come on--"

Olivia asked, "Do you think this is TV? Do you think Kevin Spacey is going to come talk to Leslie about how Leslie's dad didn't love him and then we'll all get to go home in ten hours, having learned a valuable lesson?"

"I'm fairly sure his dad didn't love him," Phillip said.

"That's not the point. Either we get ourselves out of here or we don't. You think Mayor Wolfe is going to handle this properly? I don't know about you morons, but I have someone to go home to."

Alvino looked at his hands.

Phillip said, "Trapped in here with Leslie is one thing. But who wants to be trapped in here with her? Hm?"

Olivia smiled.

"Fine," Samuel said. "Let's scoot."

Everyone scooted.

Olivia got to her feet.

Leslie slid off his stool and leveled his gun at her, using two hands, cop-style, because the right hand was trembling. Guns were heavy.

Leslie did not have strong wrists.

"I'm sure you saw this coming," Olivia said. "But I have to go to the bathroom."

Leslie's eyes widened.

Olivia walked past him, so that his view was slightly askew from the hostages. He glanced at them, and then at her.

"Look at me, Leslie. I'm ready to burst."

Leslie blinked. The gun lowered slightly.

Everyone scooted.

Phillip got up and said, "I have to go, too." He took an angle between Leslie and the six remaining hostages, so that Leslie couldn't quite see them scooting.

"No one is going anywhere," Leslie said. "Hold it. And when Alan gets here--"

"Sorry, man," Phillip said. He began unbuckling his belt. "I'll just--there's that bonsai plant thing over there and--"

"Well, me too, then," Olivia said.

"What?" Leslie looked wildly between them.

The phone rang.

Leslie spun around. Phillip lunged for his gun, pointing it at the ceiling. Lifting it above Leslie's weak hands.

Alvino shouted and the hostages ran for the door, no one looking back.

Olivia grabbed Leslie's hair, pulling him back until he screamed, until he was crumpling to his knees, the gun going off. Four shots. Six. All hitting ceiling tiles until Phillip wrestled the gun away.

Then Alvino came up and took Leslie's arm and yanked it behind his back.

"All good?" Olivia asked.

She panted and her head was swimming, like she'd run a race with not enough oxygen. Her knees felt weak. Her face hurt even more than it had minutes ago.

Alvino nodded at Phillip.

"We're good," Phillip said. "Go."

Olivia ran for the door, afraid her legs would give out, afraid she would get shot in the back.

The sunlight was blinding. She groped her away forward, remembering where Natalia had been. People shouted all around her. Cops brushed past her, knocking her shoulders, heading for Phillip and the kid and the idiot.

Then someone caught her. Someone squeezed her waist so hard she lost her breath, and fell forward, suspended. Held.

"Olivia," Natalia said.

That was her name. Echoed over and over. Against her ear, against her neck. Her eyes adjusted. Her feet steadied under her. Seconds that felt like minutes passed until she could wrap her arms around Natalia's shoulders.

Minutes that felt like hours passed before she could speak.

"You're hurt," Natalia said.

"I'm fine."

"Come inside," Natalia said, pulling away, to take her into Company.

"Not yet. Not until--"

The bank doors opened. Olivia turned, blinking, rubbing her eyes against the onslaught of tears.

Phillip and Alvino came out first, to the cheers of the other hostage takers. Olivia held onto Natalia with one arm, letting Natalia hold her up, but tried to smile as they passed.

Then Leslie Calvino, in handcuffs, guided by the cops. Looking small and pasty in the light.

He was nothing that should have ruined her afternoon.

"Olivia."

Ava beckoned from the Company porch.

"Okay," Olivia said.

Doris put her arm on Natalia's and said, "I want you down at the station in one hour, Olivia. Got that? One hour."

"Yes, sir."

Doris walked toward Phillip.

Olivia made a face.

"Come on," Natalia said. "It's important. You want him behind bars, don't you?"

"I just want him to go away."

"He will."

"I have to--I have to talk to Ava."

"Okay," Natalia said.

"Olivia, wait." Phillip came up and said, "I'd like to see Emma tonight, if that's all right."

"We're carving pumpkins. Come around seven."

"Thank you." He breathed deeply. "Thank you."

"Want to order pizza?" Natalia asked.

Olivia and Phillip flinched.

Natalia said, "We'll, uh, get Company to cater, all right?"

"Sounds good," Olivia said.

Phillip nodded. "I'll go to the station and keep Doris busy. You should go to the hospital, Olivia."

"You should die in a fire, Phillip."

Natalia gasped.

"Inside joke," Olivia said.

"Explain it. Right now."

"Later. Okay?" They watched Phillip walk away and then Olivia said, "That was weird. He usually talks just to you."

"I'm usually less scary than you. I guess," Natalia said.

"Ava--"

Natalia nodded and they walked slowly to Company, and up the steps, and Olivia pulled Ava into a hug.

"Olivia," Ava said.

"I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're...here. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mom. Thank you for not aborting me."

Natalia put her hand to her forehead. "Everyone is just awful today. Everyone and everything."

Ava tightened her grip.

Natalia asked, "Can we go inside? At least put some frozen peas on your nose?"

"One at a time?" Olivia asked.

Natalia rolled her eyes and pushed open the door.

Ava said, "I'm glad you're here, too. That you didn't die last year."

"I would have, if not for you."

"If not for Natalia."

"If not for you."

"Well. We shouldn't need crises to bring us together."

"Spoken like someone who grew up with a nice family."

"Yup, that's me. And it'll be Emma, too."

"Hopefully."

Ava rubbed Olivia's back. "I promise," she said.

Buzz came up with a first aid kit and damp towels. "Sit."

Olivia sat.

"Shut up," Buzz said.

"I didn't--"

"Shssh."

Olivia glared.

Natalia sat on the table and bumped Olivia's shoulder with her calf.

The television showed the porch, just outside, where Doris stood giving a press conference.

"Was I on TV?" Olivia asked.

"Turn that off," Buzz said.

"Aw," Olivia said.

"What did I say?"

Olivia pressed her lips together.

Natalia stroked her hair.

"Everything's fine," Ava said. "No one needs to be melodramatic."

Buzz said, "Sure. Just let me wash the blood off Olivia's face. Then we'll see."

"Does it hurt?" Natalia asked.

Olivia looked at Buzz.

"You can answer that."

Olivia said, "I don't feel a thing."

"Liar," Natalia said, kissing her hair.

"Pants on fire," Ava echoed.

Olivia just smiled and let them maul at her, touch her, heal her.

* * *

 

III.

"My face isn't scary enough," Olivia said, staring woefully at her pumpkin, knife in hand.

"I beg to differ," Phillip said.

"Who invited him, again?"

"I did!" Emma said. She wrapped her arms around Phillip's waist.

Phillip smiled smugly at Olivia.

She rolled her eyes. "She'll turn into a teenager and start hating us soon enough."

"Speak for yourself."

"Knock, knock," Frank said, poking his head through the kitchen door.

"Oh, great," Olivia said.

"Hi Frank," Natalia said. "Come on in."

"I rushed back as soon as I heard. I couldn't believe it. Is everyone all right?"

"Oh, just dandy," Olivia said.

"She's still in shock," Natalia said.

Olivia rolled her eyes and went back to carving.

Rafe squeezed into the kitchen. "Hi, Frank," he said, brightening.

"Rafe."

"I love it when everyone's here," Emma said.

"Me too, sweetie," Natalia said. "Why don't you take this into the living room and see who wants more?" She offered Emma a half-full bottle of wine.

Emma carefully took the bottle. Phillip trailed after her.

Frank studied Olivia's face.

"Oh, I'm fine," she said. Between the Advil at Buzz's and the second glass of wine, she was feeling fantastic.

Natalia rubbed her back as she passed, and then beckoned to Frank, taking him to the crowd of people.

Olivia could admit to herself that it was nice that they were there, filling the farmhouse and the porch and the lawn. What had started as a family gathering had turned into a party as people heard the news. Natalia loved having people in her home. Olivia didn't mind it, especially on a night like tonight, where she needed insulation from the outside world. Springfield was a place they both belonged. She felt it in the vibrations of the walls from the laughter of their guests.

Rafe sipped his glass of water and stared at her from across an unfinished pumpkin.

The five pumpkins were all in various artistic half-states as people got bored with carving or got tempted by conversation. Lighting them up was going to be an event.

"Rafe, I want to talk to you," Olivia said.

His eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed, but he said nothing, and his gaze didn't break.

She walked around the table, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh pumpkin, and put down her knife.

He put down his glass.

"Thank you for taking care of Emma--but that's not what I want to say," she said, as he straightened.

"What?" he asked.

"If something had happened to me--I guess something did happen to me--When Emma is with you, I know she's totally safe. I don't have to worry about her. Do you know how big that is? If she was out of my hands and into yours? That's fine. That's fine with me."

Awkward.

Rafe rubbed his shoulders. "But she's the only thing you care about."

"No, she's not," Olivia said. She put her arms around Rafe, who was solid and strong, and he hesitatingly put his hands on her waist.

"I was pissed," he said. "I didn't want mom there. At the bank."

"Neither did I. But you know. Who else would you want at your side when things suck? It's not the first time she had a hand in saving my life."

Rafe nodded against her hair.

She patted his back.

"Why does she keep doing that?" he asked.

"She likes lost causes, Rafe. She thinks it's cute." She took a deep breath. "But really, I'm glad I didn't have to worry about Emma," she said.

She let him go.

"I'm glad it all worked out," he said. "It was a mess. You're right. It would have sucked if--"

"I know," she said.

"Hey, Olivia?"

"Hm?"

"I--I feel safe with you, too. I mean, when I was in prison, you were always there for me. Yelling at the warden, getting me special treatment, bringing me my meds. I mean, I guess you were just trying to impress my mom--"

"Rafe--"

"But you got me through it. You. I may hate you for it, but, I trust you, too."

She couldn't hug him again, so she just shifted her weight, and he kind of smiled.

Natalia came into the kitchen. She said, "Josh and Reva are leaving, and I think they're going to start an avalanche. So let's get these lit and onto the porch."

Rafe hefted two into his arms.

"They're not done," Olivia said.

"It doesn't matter. They're... interesting," Natalia said.

"Yeah. It's been an 'interesting' day."

Rafe slipped past them and shouted at Frank to come get the rest.

Olivia picked one up.

Natalia said, "I heard what you said."

"Mm."

"If our situations had been reversed--"

The thought sent a chill through Olivia. She closed her eyes.

"--I'd want Emma to take care of Rafe too," Natalia finished.

"Sure. And what about Ava?"

"I hope Ava's done facing tragedy in her life," Natalia said.

Olivia nodded. She took the pumpkin outside. Rafe was joking about pyromania as he lit the two he'd brought with white stubby candles that reminded Olivia of church. Light spilled out of jagged crevices and toothy grins and narrow eyes.

Emma was deep in conversation with Remy, but cheered when Frank brought out the last two pumpkins. Then they were all aligned and lit on the porch and Remy took pictures of Emma and Ava making vampire faces while kneeling beside them, and of Josh and Olivia planning to stomp them.

Tears filled Olivia's eyes, which made her nose ache. Natalia, laughing with Phillip, was too far away. Olivia stepped onto the porch.

"Everyone out!" she exclaimed.

"Hold on," Blake said, her head bent toward her cell phone. "I'm tweeting this."

"Out," Olivia said.

Natalia kissed Phillip's cheek and smiled. He rubbed her shoulders, then went to Emma. "Walk me to my car," he said.

Emma took his hand.

Olivia watched them.

Natalia came up and linked arms with her.

"I'm not going to bolt after them," Olivia said.

"I know. You wouldn't embarrass me at a party." Natalia smiled.

"Is my nose bleeding?"

"No. Does it hurt?"

"Yes."

Natalia brushed tears away from the corners of Olivia's eyes. "Just a few more minutes."

"Then more peas?"

"Don't knock the peas," Natalia said.

"Only the utmost respect."

People wandered to their cars, and said goodbyes there, and laughed, and waved. Frank came and hugged Olivia and Rafe, but only gave a weird, fond look to Natalia. Rafe snatched up his pumpkin to take home. Ava stood on the porch until after everyone had left.

"One more glass of wine," Ava said.

Natalia nodded. She tugged at Olivia.

"Wait," Olivia said, as Ava went inside.

"What?" Natalia asked.

"Wait."

"Okay."

Olivia pulled Natalia into a hug and held her and wept. And screamed because crying hurt so much. She felt like she could never let go, and never stop, even though her head was pounding. Her nose throbbed. Everything hurt. But this solid mass that embraced her, this love, managed to hold her up. Natalia had perfected the art of holding her. Natalia didn't mind that tears dampened her shirt, that Olivia clung a little too tightly. Natalia's hand gently cupped the back of Olivia's neck. She waited as Olivia drained herself of enough agony that she could let other things in. Beyond Natalia's warmth, she could see the blurry porch. The land. The home.

Olivia had fallen in love with Natalia on this porch.

When she loosened her grip on Natalia, just enough that Natalia could sigh and press a kiss to her throat, Natalia said, "Just so you know...I'm going to do my crying later."

"One at a time probably makes sense," Olivia said.

"Otherwise we'd just be a slobbering mess."

"Wouldn't want that." Olivia pulled back and tried to smile. "Ava's waiting."

They went inside, arm and arm, leaving the candles flickering inside the pumpkins, the grotesque visages wards against the outside world.

* * *

Olivia sat on the bed, which was still made, with the folded quilt under her butt. She'd already showered, scrubbing at the fresh bruises, making wound lines pink and red and raw. Hurting and unhurting. She'd studied herself in the foggy mirror. Old and bony with marks that felt permanent. That sucked. The cheek cut might scar nicely, though.

Now Natalia was--God knows what Natalia was doing in the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" Olivia called out.

"Hold on," Natalia said through the door.

"I had a bad day," Olivia said. "I want my--" she paused, considering.

"Your what?"

"My pookie?" she tried.

"Oh, no."

"Kitten?"

"Worse."

"Natalia."

"Good."

"But please--"

The door opened and Natalia came out, carrying ointments in jars, and wearing a Blackhawks jersey that dwarfed her, hanging nearly to her knees.

Olivia breathed deeply.

"You're--just wearing a towel," Natalia said.

"I can take it off."

"In a second."

Olivia smiled.

Natalia sat next to her. She uncapped the ointment and picked up a cotton ball. "Hold still," she said.

"Natalia, I don't need--"

"I promise this will help."

"Oh, you promise."

Natalia leaned in and kissed Olivia quickly and said, "I promise."

Olivia braced herself for cotton ball contact. Natalia dabbed at her and--it helped.

"What is that stuff?"

"Kills the pain. Only temporarily, but it works, right?"

Olivia nodded.

Natalia smiled and dabbed ointment along Olivia's jaw line.

"Kiss me again," Olivia said.

Natalia kissed her.

That worked even better.

Natalia took the ointments back to the bathroom, and Olivia mourned her loss of proximity and consoled herself with watching Natalia's ass.

"Olivia," Natalia said.

"Hm?"

"You can lose the towel now."

"I'm not sure--"

Natalia came back and sat next to her. She took Olivia's jaw in her hand and turned Olivia's face until their eyes met.

"Towel, please," she said.

Olivia unraveled the towel and it pooled beside her thighs. Natalia closed her eyes and leaned in. Olivia allowed the kiss, but then turned away and said, "Look at me."

"I don't think--"

"Look at me."

Natalia took a deep breath. She opened her eyes and studied Olivia's body. The bruise on her breast. The perfect impression of a boot on her side. Natalia gasped.

Olivia put her hand on Natalia's shoulder. Time to get the crying part over with.

But Natalia bit her lip and said, "I'm fine. Really. Olivia--"

"It's okay," Olivia said. "It doesn't hurt."

"We didn't make love last night," Natalia said.

"You were really into that book." Olivia smiled.

"It was a mistake."

"Oh, a mistake? I recall having quite a good morning."

"But now it's night again." Natalia caressed Olivia's cheek. "So. Stay with me. It's a mistake I intend to correct."

"I see."

"I think...you will," Natalia said.

They kissed, slowly and tenderly, but Olivia felt the smoldering already. From her thighs to her stomach to her heart, beating way too rapidly just with the touch of Natalia's mouth. Why hadn't they made love the night before--Olivia wondered if they had taken it for granted, that this passion would wait for them, would wait for books and school trips and tiredness from workdays. Olivia was used to finite, to once, but now she had everything--Her new life. What was once elusive now made her feel immortal. She blamed the bionic heart fluttering wildly in her chest.

Natalia tugged Olivia's lower lip between her teeth.

"Natalia, wait," Olivia said. Or whispered. Or maybe her lips just formed the words, against Natalia's, transmitting secret messages.

Natalia pulled back, her eyes wide. Ready to argue. She didn't want to wait.

Olivia straightened. Like she wanted to wait. Like she didn't want to turn the blankets down, and have Natalia under her, her chest heaving under the jersey, Olivia's hand slipping along her thigh--

"If it had been you in there," Olivia started.

"It wasn't," Natalia said.

"If it was," Olivia said. She took Natalia's hands. "I would have fallen apart. I would have screamed, or choked Doris, or thrown myself at the glass."

"Are you saying I should have--"

"No. No, you are so much stronger than me. Seeing you standing there--You gave me a reason to live. To hold out."

"But not, according to Phillip, to behave."

"I can't stop being me. It's... the only thing I have."

"The only defense," Natalia said.

"I was going to say weapon."

Natalia smiled. "You're not a weapon."

"I should have been. I could have--anyway. Natalia, it was just a stupid thing."

"You almost died." Natalia squeezed her hands.

"No. Nothing that mundane can take me away from you."

"Olivia, nearly everything will. If just walking into the bank is enough, then what about driving your car? Walking to the park? This is Springfield. I mean, you were with Phillip, the man who--Anything can happen."

"Well. You're wrong."

Natalia laughed sharply. "I'm wrong?"

"Yep."

"Get in bed."

Olivia chuckled and got up, letting her hands slide from Natalia's grasp.

"This is not over," Natalia said. "I'm not letting you leave the house. Ever."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Olivia turned down the bedsheets. "It should be obvious by now that I want to stay in this home with you for the rest of my life."

"However short that is."

Olivia got into bed, sitting. She tucked the blankets around her legs.

"It's not enough," Natalia said. She slipped into bed but didn't touch Olivia, just gazed at her profile.

"It's not enough?"

"I need ten years with you. Twenty. Thirty. I fought too hard for you."

"You won't lose me."

Natalia brushed a lock of hair away from Olivia's temple. "Is it enough for you?"

"Every moment I get to spend with you is a gift," Olivia said.

"Very sweet. But--"

"Listen, Natalia. It's true. I never expected any of this. I thought--but never expected."

Natalia moved closer, so that her chest pressed against Olivia's shoulder. She kissed Olivia's hair.

Olivia closed her eyes.

Natalia said, "You dying is not all right."

"I know."

Natalia kissed her cheek.

"I wasn't even close," Olivia said.

"It felt--" Natalia stopped.

"How did it feel?" Olivia asked.

She pulled Natalia into her arms, onto her lap, so that they kissed, they were together, and the awkward posture made them concentrate, made everything else go away by necessity, with Natalia's tears falling on both their faces through the kiss. Then Natalia squirmed away, to lie on her back, and cover her face against the sobs.

Olivia covered her. Half her weight against Natalia, the rest on her right leg and hip. She pried Natalia's hands away from her face. Natalia turned away, gasping for air, her face scrunched in anguish. Olivia kissed her fingers.

When Natalia could breathe again, when her face slackened, she said, "You're too far away."

"I'm right here." But Olivia worked her hands under Natalia's shoulder and neck and hugged her. Natalia clung to her, digging fingers into her back. She was tense against Olivia. Rigid. Olivia worked at her shoulder, gently rubbing in circles, and kissed her face, just as lightly. As lightly as she could on Natalia's mouth, her jaw, her ear. Natalia eased underneath her, but her grip didn't lessen.

"I can't get that image out of my head," Natalia said.

"What image?"

"You, through the blinds. And then you, gone, because he--"

"He didn't do anything."

"Olivia--"

"Shssh," Olivia said.

"I'm still afraid," Natalia said. She ran her hands down Olivia's back.

"Well, you're always the brave one. Let me for once."

"You're the one that was in there. You should be--"

"I'm okay," Olivia said. "Let me show you."

Natalia arched her neck and slid her hands to Olivia's shoulders. "Okay. Show me."

Olivia kisssed her neck and then her mouth, tasting salty tears. Only when Natalia's tongue filled her mouth, when Natalia's hand on her shoulder caressed instead of clawed, did Olivia begin to tease. She was determined not to make love like it was their last night together, not like their first encounters, desperate, urgent couplings that never made it up the stairs, or out of the kitchen, as if each orgasm would keep Natalia from changing her mind, or convince both of them their choices were worth making.

A year of waking up in Natalia's bed was better than that.

Natalia tossed her head as Olivia's fingers teased her bare arm, just beneath her sleeve.

"Natalia," Olivia said. "I love you."

Natalia swallowed.

Olivia moved her hand to Natalia's breast. She had learned, though it should have been obvious even to her, that women were more beautiful than men. Softer. Olivia pressed and curled her fingers. She couldn't shake the feeling that whenever she made love to Natalia, she was making love to a thousand years of Aphrodite and Helen, to marble and grace. She slid down between Natalia's legs. Natalia's knee rose to trap her.

"Take this off," Olivia said, tugging at the hem of the jersey.

"I'm comfortable."

"Be uncomfortable."

Natalia chuckled and arched her back, considering. Olivia stilled, watching thoughts change Natalia's face. Breaths made Natalia's chest rise and fall. Then Natalia squirmed back and sat up.

Olivia rose to her knees.

Natalia met Olivia's eyes and smiled. "I could never deny you," she said.

"Wise," Olivia said.

Natalia shook her head. Then the jersey was gone and she was naked and Olivia moved to kiss her, no longer pretending to be civilized, not with Natalia's nipple hard against her palm, not with Natalia's hand pressing her lower back. They kissed until Olivia's lips were sore, until her jaw ached and she was too aroused to push Natalia's hand away from her thigh, too liquid not to fall onto her back on the bed.

"You give up so easily," Natalia said.

"Come on, Natalia. Give me a break."

Then Natalia was over her, mouth to mouth, breasts to breasts, hand between Olivia's thighs. A tiny part of Olivia protested, as always, but they had agreed not to fight about who got to come first. Who got to give and who got to take. Olivia let herself be grateful for Natalia's touches, even with the agony they brought, until she was panting and Natalia breathed against her ear and her fingers were too much--God, how could just fingers be too much--and her body rebelled.

"Natalia, wait--Natalia--"

But Natalia's fingers curled instead, just so, and Olivia sobbed, glad Natalia covered her, hid the uncontrollable shuddering. Letting go was never this hard, unless she was afraid of losing something. Of almost dying. She clung to Natalia's shoulders and the orgasm subsided with little jolts. Natalia sucked her earlobe between sharp teeth.

"My nefarious plans are never successful," Olivia said.

"Well. You shouldn't stop trying."

Olivia let go of Natalia in order to lie on her back and breathe. Natalia's fingers trailed down her abdomen and Olivia caught them.

Natalia wriggled her fingers.

"I'm thinking," Olivia said.

"'Bout what?"

"Where to start."

"You've already started."

A tremor went through Olivia. Natalia was wet and wanting.

Waiting.

"Hold on," Olivia said. She let go of Natalia's hand.

Natalia danced her fingers up Olivia's chest, to her neck, and leaned in to kiss her. A reviving kiss. Energy surged through Olivia. Something more than sexual frustration, though she knew that would come tingling up her spine again. For now, light filled her chest, and she buried her hands in Natalia's hair, to hold her close against the kiss, until their lips parted and their breath mingled instead, and Olivia had the strength to sit up. Natalia sprawled, naked on top of the sheets, smiling up at her. Pleasantly.

"Vixen," Olivia said.

Natalia's smile brightened.

Olivia crouched, already low, kissing Natalia's stomach. She wasn't going to waste time when this was easier. When she knew just how to please Natalia. When she was better at it than anyone else, dead or alive.

Natalia's hands cupped the back of her head, worrying her hair, as if Natalia was unsure whether to dissuade or encourage her.

"This is my favorite part," Olivia said, letting the breath of her words spill over Natalia's thighs.

Natalia's fingers tightened.

"Yours, too?" Olivia asked.

But Natalia was beyond speaking as Olivia lowered her head. The bed shifted as Natalia arched back at the first contact of Olivia's tongue. Olivia pressed, still remembering when this touch, this closeness, would be an impossibility. Something to be hoped for, to be prayed for. She held Natalia's thighs apart. The further she went, the more she was rewarded by the sweet sighs, by the squeeze of legs, by whispers of love. Olivia closed her eyes. Only Natalia's heat mattered. No Leslie Calvino could exist inside this universe. Just Natalia. Just Olivia.

"Olivia--"

Hands released her. Olivia was free to do what she wanted. And if she was going to surrender, Natalia would surrender with her. Olivia gave herself until Natalia fell to pieces in her arms, until they were both shaking and still and straining and at peace. Then Natalia sucked in her breath.

Olivia nipped her inner thigh.

"Stop," Natalia said, laughing and then coughing. "Get up here."

"Mm." Olivia nuzzled her way toward Natalia's knee.

"Please?"

"Oh, all right."

Olivia worked her way up until she was on her back next to Natalia, and they were both staring at the ceiling, breathing in tandem.

"If you think," Natalia started, "That this is going to get you out of me clinging all night... Think again."

"Darn," Olivia said.

Natalia curled up against her side and tossed one leg over hers and wrapped one arm around her waist.

Olivia said, "Olivia Spencer, the human body pillow."

"But so warm," Natalia said, squeezing her.

"Not according to everyone."

Natalia reached up and covered her mouth. "I love you," she said, burrowing against Olivia's shoulder.

Olivia kissed her fingers and then, lying sedately under her lover, stared wide-eyed upward, counting the seconds they had together. She could tell by Natalia's set jaw pressing her shoulder that she was awake, too. They didn't speak. Eventually Olivia intertwined her fingers with Natalia's on her stomach and they stayed like that as the Earth spun them toward daylight.

* * *

"Why do we have to get into the car?" Emma asked.

"We can't trick-or-treat in farmland, Jellybean," Olivia said. "It's too far to walk."

Emma looked Olivia up and down. "You can't drive with a white hood over you."

"It's not a white hood--Oh geez."

Natalia covered her mouth, giggling.

"Oh, shut up, good witch." The blonde curls were unnerving Olivia. "Weren't you a witch last year?"

"It's tradition," Natalia said. She adjusted her bodice.

"That is not tradition," Rafe said.

"Yeah, well, you look like...a hood'," Natalia said.

"Want to borrow mine?" Olivia asked.

Rafe shook his head. In a white tee shirt covered in black smears that matched the make-up pallor of his face, he was unmistakably a slacker zombie.

"Boo," Olivia said. She stretched out her arms. The white bedsheet with eyes cut out left her feeling humid, but protected. Almost actually ghost-like.

"You should wear a hat," Natalia said. She took off her tiara and stuck it on Olivia's head.

"Gross," Rafe said.

"What are we waiting for?" Emma asked.

"Ava's still getting ready, remember?"

"Ugh. She's so slow." Emma sighed and went to get in the car.

The zombie trailed after her.

Ava came onto the porch, in a black body suit with a bright yellow belt and a black cape. Her black hair peeked out from under her horned mask.

"Batman?" Olivia asked.

"Batgirl," Ava said.

"Doesn't she have red hair?" Olivia asked.

Natalia said, "I think that's Batwoman."

"Hey. I'm Cassandra Cain."

"Who's that?" Olivia asked.

"Batgirl."

"What? I feel so old," Olivia said.

"Did you know Batwoman is a lesbian?" Natalia asked.

"Doesn't surprise me."

Ava rolled her eyes, but linked her arms with Natalia and Olivia on either side of her and they all skipped in unison down the walk, toward the car, where the rest of their family was waiting.

END


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